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MDramatic  Suspense  in 
the  Photoplay 

By  DENISON  CLIFT 


Dramatic  Suspense  in 
the  Photoplay 


Denison  Clift 

DIRECTOR    FOX   FEATURE   FILMS 


One  of  a  Series  of  Lectures  Especially 

Prepared  for  Student-Members 

of  T'he  Palmer  Plan 


Palmer  Photoplay  Corporation 

DEPARTMENT  OF  EDUCATION 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 


Co/>/righl,  fQJO,  Palmtr  Phatoflay  Corforation,  Loi  Angclrs,  Cali'ornia 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Denison  Clift 

-r\  ENISON  CLIFT,  the  author  of  "Dramatic  Suspense  in  the 
I  i  Photoplay,"  is  a  graduate  of  Stanford  University.  He 
entered  the  Motion  Picture  field  in  January,  1917 ,  under 
Cecil  B.  deMille,  and  iirote  photoplays  for  the  Lasky  Com- 
pany. Later  he  xvrote  plays  for  M'illiam  S.  Hart  and  other 
famous  stars  under  the  supervision  of  Thomas  H.  Ince.  When 
William  Fox  decided  to  star  Madlaine  Traverse  in  emotional 
dramas,  he  secured  the  services  of  Mr.  Clift  as  a  special  fea- 
ture liriter.  Mr.  Clift  has  been  a  it.riter  of  Fox  photoplays  for 
tivo  years.  Within  that  period  he  ivas  advanced  to  Scenario 
Editor,  taking  complete  charge  of  the  staff  of  vcriters;  and 
recently  he  inas  again  advanced  to  the_  position  of  Director, 
and  is  noiv  directing  his  oivn  stories.  Mr.  Clift  is  one  of  the 
very  fe<w  directors  in  the  art  ziho  writes  his  oiun  story,  prepares 
his  oivn  continuity,  or  ivorking  version  of  the  story,  directs  the 
feature,  and  cuts  the  film   for  final  exhibition. 


^mmm  HE  PHOTOPLAY,  while  the  expression  of  an 
mW\  emotional  art,  is  subject  to  laws  which,  intelli- 
m  I  I  gently  handled,  make  it  possible,  in  the  hands 
III  of  the  true  artist,  to  produce  an  artistic  achieve- 
^■H  ment  one  hundred  per  cent  perfect.  The  science 
^^J^  of  photoplay-making  is  just  as  exacting  as  the 
science  of  mathematics.  Perfect  photoplays  are  not 
dashed  off  during  the  heat  of  emotion;  they  are  built, 
scene  by  scene,  with  as  calculating  a  precision  as  a 
mathematician  solves  a  problem  in  higher  mathematics. 
And  just  in  proportion  as  the  writer  understands  how  to 
bring  about  the  effects  he  desires  to  produce  upon  the 
emotions  of  the  spectator,  will  he  accomplish  the  func- 
tion of  a  good  photoplay. 

Watch-Like  Precision, 

2.  A  perfect  photoplay,  which,  unfortunately,  is 
rarely  seen,  is  as  beautiful  a  piece  of  dramatic  machinery 
as  is  a  Swiss  watch.  In  the  watch  every  wheel,  spring, 
jewel  and  pivot  has  its  exact  function ;  not  a  single  wheel 
is  included  for  any  reason  but  to  perfect  the  movement 
of  the  watch;  and  to  remove  any  single  part  of  the 
machinery  means  to  stop  the  perfect  movement,  to  upset 
the  precise  function  of  the  whole. 

3.  There  are  two  distinct  phases  of  playmaking 
that  must  be  understood  before  we  can  determine  what 
differentiates  a  drama  from  a  narrative,  and  comprehend 
the  value  and  function  of  the  element  of  Suspense.  The 
first  phase  is  the  Material;  and  the  second  is  the  element 
of  Craftsmanship  as  applied  to  the  material. 

4.  If  the  Swiss  watch  were  taken  apart,  and  the 
wheels,  springs,  jewels  and  other  parts  were  laid  out  in 
a  row — that  would  represent  the  Material — each  part  per- 
fected and  intrinsically  of  the  highest  value.  But  the 
parts  themselves  would  be  useless  without  the  brain  of 
the  creator  to  fit  the  parts  together— to  form  the  perfect 
whole,  with  each  piece  functioning  to  give  life  and  move- 
ment to  the  instrument.  The  art  of  fitting  the  various 
pieces  together  is  the  art  of  Craftsmanship. 

In  photoplay-making,  the  selection  of  material  is  of 


vital  importance;  but  of  equal  importance  is  the 
knowledge  of  how  to  make  the  wheels  go  around;  how 
to  make  the  material  function  to  produce  the  highest 
emotional  effect  upon  the  spectator. 

Dramatic  and  Undramatic. 

5.  What  is  dramatic?  In  the  making  of  photoplays, 
not  everyone  understands  what  is  dramatic  and  what  is 
not  dramatic.  From  the  early  days  of  picture-making, 
the  cinema  has  lent  itself  admirably  to  the  presentation 
of  spectacle — particularly  spectacle  of  a  violent  nature. 

Through  misconception,  or  lack  of  knowledge,  a 
reaching  for  drama  has  meant  a  reaching  for  violence. 
An  action  in  itself,  no  matter  how  violent,  is  not  neces- 
sarily dramatic.  An  automobile  plunging  off  a  clifif;  a 
building  consumed  with  flames;  two  men  fighting  with 
bare  fists  to  the  death — these  things  are  violent,  but  can 
be  done  on  the  screen  utterly  without  real  dramatic 
significance. 

6.  But  if  we  know,  and  love,  the  occupant  of  the 
plunging  car;  if  a  little  child  that  we  would  willingly  die 
to  save,  is  in  the  burning  building;  if  the  outcome  of  the 
fight  between  the  two  men  means  the  salvation  or  damna- 
tion of  a  woman's  soul — then  the  scenes  assume  an  ele- 
ment of  Suspense  which  gives  them  dramatic  value. 

Violence  Unnecessary. 

7.  It  is  not  the  violence  of  the  deed  in  itself  that  is 
dramatic;  it  is  the  reaction  of  the  deed  upon  a  human 
soul  that  gives  us  great  drama.  In  "Othello,"  it  is  not  the 
killing  of  the  innocent  Desdemona  that  grips  us,  so  much 
as  the  tremendously  poignant  awakening  of  Othello  when 
he  learns  that  the  sweet  wife  that  he  has  murdered  is  inno- 
cent. It  is  the  reaction  upon  the  soul  of  the  man  that  holds 
us  spellbound.  In  "Macbeth"  it  is  not  the  murder  of  the 
King  that  matters  so  much  as  the  reaction  upon  Macbeth 
and  Lady  Macbeth;  it  is  their  processes  of  soul  after  the 
murder  that  transfixes  our  interest.  In  "Romeo  and  Juliet" 
it  is  not  so  much  the  effect  of  the  sleeping  potion  upon  Ju- 
liet that  tears  and  rips  our  emotions,  as  that  great  scene — 
perhaps  the  most  poignant  in  all  dramatic  literature — 


where,  after  the  suicide  of  Romeo,  in  the  tomb,  Juliet 
awakens,  crying  plaintively  for  her  lover.  What  scene 
could  be  fraught  more  with  the  element  of  Suspense  than 
this? 

Freytag  characterizes  such  situations  as  the  essence 
of  drama.  "It  is  not  the  presentation  of  an  event  for  it- 
self," he  says,  "but  for  its  efifect  upon  a  human  soul." 

8.  During  the  past  decade  the  term  "Punch"  has 
become  familiar  to  all  writers  of  plays  and  photoplays. 
By  punch,  producers  too  often  mean  nothing  more  than 
Violent  Action.  The  real  meaning  of  drama  is  lost  com- 
pletely. There  is  more  real  drama  in  the  last  ten  minutes 
of  Ibsen's  "A  Doll's  House,"  than  there  is  in  all  the  photo- 
plays of  violence  put  together — more  real  power  in  the 
quiet,  spiritual  scene  of  the  man  and  woman  across  a  table 
than  in  a  dozen  fights^  fires  or  railroad  wrecks.  Nora  and 
Helmer,  at  grips  spiritually,  mean  more  to  the  human  race 
than  can  be  estimated.  No  violence;  just  the  exchange  of 
thought;  Nora,  who  has  misunderstood  the  man  she  had 
married,  now  awakened,  leaving  him  and  her  little 
children,  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  find  herself  and  her 
relation  to  society.  And  as  she  goes,  Helmer,  believing 
that  her  act  is  impossible,  listens  breathlessly  for  the 
miracle.  Will  she  really  go,  or  will  she  turn  back  at  the 
front  door?  We  listen  with  the  same  intense,  breathless 
interest  as  Helmer — and  we  hear  the  closing  of  the  door 
as  she  goes  out.  The  echo  of  that  closing  door  has  come 
down  the  years,  the  essence  of  spiritual  and  human  signifi- 
cance, the  embodiment  of  dramatic  strength. 

Ibsen,  the  master  craftsman!  "A  Doll's  House"  con- 
tains every  element  of  a  perfect  play. 

9.  The  material  was  selected  with  the  hand  of  a 
master;  the  play  was  built  by  the  touch  of  genius.  It 
affords  one  of  the  greatest  studies  in  modern  dramatic 
literature  of  what  a  play  should  be.  And  for  students  of 
the  drama,  there  is  a  special  edition  of  Ibsen's  work,  edited 
by  William  Archer,  which  will  reveal  the  secrets  of  this 
master's  workshop.* 

•  "From  Ibsen's  Workshop,"  Volume  Xll  in  the  Collected  Works  of  Henrik 
Ibsenj  published  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  Nev)  York. 


Careful  Building. 

How  often,  when  we  witness  a  wonderful  play,  do 
we  wish  that  we  could  look  beyond  the  presentation  and 
see  the  processes  that  made  possible  the  degree  of  per- 
fection. That  rare  treat  is  almost  always  denied  us.  You 
have  little  idea  of  the  tremendous  amount  of  work  that 
goes  into  making  a  good  play.  The  process  is  laborious, 
making  great  mental  demands.  You  build  and  build, 
and  add  and  add.  Then  you  begin  to  eliminate,  bit  by  bit, 
sometimes  a  situation,  sometimes  a  character,  often  a 
word  in  a  subtitle;  until  in  the  end  only  the  cream  of  the 
dramatic  cream  is  left,  and  you  have  a  play  that  is  com^ 
pact,  simply  told,  with  direction  and  power,  with  only  a 
few  central  characters,  and  of  which  no  part  could  be 
removed  without  ruining  the  whole. 

10.  In  the  photoplay,  the  tendency  today  is  to  write 
the  story  simply  and  with  few  characters.  This  is  essen- 
tial because  of  the  length  of  the  film.  Features  average 
4,500  feet  of  film — five  reels,  of  nine  hundred  feet  each. 
Of  the  4,500  feet,  approximately  1,200  are  demanded  by 
subtitles.  That  leaves  3,300  feet  of  picture,  a  little  over 
three  reels  of  actual  picture  story.  In  that  limited  amount 
of  film  there  is  not  space  enough  to  tell  an  elaborate  and 
complicated  story,  filled  with  many  characters.  If  that 
mistake  is  made,  certain  sequences,  or  episodes,  must  be 
eliminated  in  the  cutting. 

The  sequences  cut  out  almost  always  contain  vital 
motivation.  Consequently,  characterization  suffers.  The 
deeds  of  the  characters  are  not  motivated;  sometimes  we 
do  not  understand  their  mental  processes;  and  the  result 
is  another  poor  photoplay. 

Value  of  Simplicity, 

This  element  of  simplicity  is  stressed  here,  not  only 
because  the  mechanics  of  picture-making  demand  it  for 
a  good  picture,  but  because  it  conforms  to  the  accepted 
canons  of  the  art  today. 

11.  The  day  of  the  simple,  powerful  play,  with  few 
characters,  and  with  a  single  theme  and  thread  of  action, 
was  initiated  by  Ibsen.     Inasmuch  as  his  type  of  play- 

6 


building  is  ideally  adapted  to  the  cinema,  it  will  be  valu- 
able to  dwell  upon  the  secrets  of  Ibsen's  workshop  before 
narrowing  ourselves  to  the  function  of  Suspense  alone. 

12.  If  a  personal  word  may  be  permitted,  it  has  al- 
ways been  my  observation,  in  the  scenario  departments 
of  the  studios,  that  the  greater  the  artist,  the  greater  the 
problems.  Dramatic  material  makes  a  tremendous  mental 
demand  upon  the  writer  in  shaping  it  and  moulding  it  for 
production.  There  is  no  easy  road  to  success.  There  are 
no  rewards  in  this  business  without  intense  labor.  The 
writer  who  comes  into  the  studio  with  a  manuscript  and 
says :  "Well,  here  is  the  story.  It  came  easy.  I  was  able 
to  do  it  in  three  days,"  probably  has  just  a  sequence  of 
events  and  nothing  more — scenes  without  structure,  with- 
out characterization.  Only  what  you  put  into  a  photo- 
play, will  the  producer  and  the  spectator  get  out  of  it. 

Photoplays  Not  ''Dashed  Offr 

13.  Photoplay-writing  is  a  delicate  and  intricate 
art;  no  one  ever  attains  the  position  of  being  able  to  sit 
down  and  write  a  play  straight  off  without  difficulty.  The 
greater  the  artist  the  more  will  he  labor  to  bring  his  work 
to  the  point  of  perfection;  and  as  a  consequence,  the  more 
will  he  suffer  during  the  processes  of  conception,  revision 
and  beginning  again. 

I  quote  from  William  Archer,  in  his  introduction  to 
"From  Ibsen's  Workshop": 

14.  Of  "A  Doll's  House"  we  possess  a  first  brief 
memorandum,  a  fairly  detailed  scenario,  a  complete  draft, 
in  quite  actable  form,  and  a  few  detached  fragments  of 
dialogue.  The  complete  draft  is  perhaps  the  most  valu- 
able of  all  the  documents  contained  in  this  volume,  since 
it  shows  us  how,  at  a  point  at  which  many  dramatists 
would  have  been  more  than  content  to  write  "Finis,"  the 
most  characteristic  part  of  Ibsen's  work  was  onlv  about  to 
begin.  It  is  scarcely  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  all  the 
traits  which  have  most  deeply  impressed  themselves  on 
the  public  mind,  and  which  constitute  the  true  individual- 
ity of  the  play,  prove  to  have  been  introduced  during  the 
process  of  revision. 


15.  This  assertion  the  reader  must  verify  for  him- 
self, by  a  comparison  of  the  texts :  I  will  merely  enumer- 
ate a  few  of  the  traits  of  which  the  draft  contains  no  indi- 
cation. In  the  first  act  the  business  of  the  macaroons 
is  not  even  suggested ;  there  is  none  of  the  charming  talk 
about  the  Christmas  tree  and  the  children's  presents;  no 
request  on  Nora's  part  that  her  present  may  take  the  form 
of  money,  no  indication  on  Helmer's  part  that  he  regards 
her  supposed  extravagance  as  an  inheritance  from  her 
father.  It  is  notable  throughout  that  neither  Helmer's 
aestheticism  nor  the  sensual  element  in  his  relation  to 
Nora  is  nearly  so  much  emphasized  as  in  the  completed 
play;  while  Nora's  tendency  to  small  fibbing — that  vice 
of  the  unfree — scarcely  appears  at  all.  In  the  first  scene 
with  Dr.  Rank,  there  is  no  indication  either  of  the  doctor's 
ill  health  or  his  pessimism:  it  seems  as  though  he  had  at 
first  been  designed  as  a  mere  confident.  In  the  draft, 
Nora,  Helmer,  and  Rank  discuss  the  case  of  Krogstad  in 
a  dispassionate  way  before  Nora  has  learnt  how  vital  it  is 
to  her.  An  enormous  improvement  was  effected  by  the 
suppression  of  this  untimely  passage,  which  discounted 
the  efifect  of  the  scene  at  the  end  of  the  act.  That  scene  is 
not  materially  altered  in  the  final  version;  but  the  first 
version  contains  no  hint  of  the  business  of  decorating  the 
Christmas  tree,  or  of  Nora's  wheedling  Helmer  by  pre- 
tending to  need  his  aid  in  devising  her  costume  for  the 
fancy-dress  ball.  Indeed,  this  ball  has  not  yet  entered 
Ibsen's  mind.    He  thinks  of  it  first  as  a  children's  party. 

Ibsen  s  Revisions. 

16.  In  the  second  act  there  is  no  scene  with  Mrs. 
Linden  in  which  she  remonstrates  with  Nora  for  having 
(as  she  thinks)  borrowed  money  from  Dr.  Rank,  and  so 
suggests  to  her  the  idea  of  applying  to  him  for  aid.  In 
the  scene  with  Helmer,  we  miss,  among  other  characteris- 
tic traits,  his  confession  that  the  ultimate  reason  why  he 
cannot  keep  Krogstad  in  the  bank  is  that  Krogstad,  as  an 
old  schoolfellow,  is  so  tactless  as  to  be  unduly  familiar 
with  him.  When  Rank  enters,  he  speaks  to  Helmer  and 
Nora  of  his  failing  health :  it  is  an  immeasurable  improve- 

8 


ment  which  transfers  this  passage,  in  a  carefully-polished 
form,  to  his  scene  with  Nora  alone.  Of  the  famous  silk- 
stocking  scene — that  curious  sidelight  on  Nora's  relations 
with  Helmer — there  is  not  a  trace.  There  is  no  hint  of 
Nora's  appeal  to  Rank  for  help,  nipped  in  the  bud  by  his 
declaration  of  love  for  her.  All  these  elements  we  find  in 
the  second  draft  of  the  scene.  In  this  draft,  Rank  says: 
"Helmer  himself  might  quite  well  know  every  thought  I 
have  ever  had  of  you;  he  shall  know  them  when  I  am 
gone."  If  Ibsen  had  retained  this  speech  it  might  have 
saved  much  critical  misunderstanding  of  a  perfectly 
harmless  episode.  Even  when  the  end  of  the  second  act  is 
reached,  Ibsen  has  not  yet  conceived  the  idea  of  the  fancy 
ball  and  the  rehearsal  of  the  tarantella.  It  is  not  a  very 
admirable  invention,  but  it  is  at  any  rate  better  than  the 
strained  and  arbitrary  incident  which,  in  the  draft,  brings 
the  act  to  a  close. 

Compression  and  Simplification, 

17.  Very  noteworthy  is  the  compression  and  sim- 
plification to  which  Ibsen  has  subjected  the  earlier  scenes 
of  the  third  act.  In  the  draft,  they  are  clumsy  and  strag- 
gling. The  scene  between  Helmer,  Nora  and  Rank  has 
absolutely  none  of  the  subtlety  and  tragic  intensity  which 
it  has  acquired  in  the  finished  form.  To  compare  the  two 
versions  is  to  see  a  perfect  instance  of  the  transmutation  of 
dramatic  prose  into  dramatic  poetry.  There  is  in  the 
draft  no  indication  either  of  Helmer's  being  warmed  with 
wine,  or  of  the  excitement  of  the  senses  which  gives  the 
final  touch  of  tragedy  to  Nora's  despair.  The  process  of 
the  action  in  the  final  scene  is  practically  the  same  in  both 
versions ;  but  everywhere  the  revision  has  given  a  sharper 
edge  to  things.  In  the  draft,  for  instance,  when  Krog- 
stad's  letter  has  lifted  the  weight  of  apprehension  from 
Helmer's  mind,  he  cries :  "You  are  saved,  Nora,  you  are 
saved!"  In  the  revised  form,  Ibsen  has  cruelly  altered 
this  into:  "I  am  saved,  Nora,  I  am  saved!"  Finally,  we 
have  to  note  that  Nora's  immortal  repartee,  "Millions  of 
women  have  done  so,"  was  an  after-thought.  But  was 
there  ever  a  more  brilliant  one? 


Source  of  Vital  Lessons. 

18.  I  have  dwelt  upon  these  comparative  versions 
of  Ibsen's  masterpiece  at  length  because  of  the  vital  les- 
sons to  be  learned  therefrom,  and  because  from  this  play 
we  have  one  of  the  most  splendid  examples  of  Suspense  to 
be  found  in  modern  drama.  That  Ibsen  himself  labored 
and  revised,  and  suffered  in  the  process,  there  is  no  doubt; 
but  the  results  reveal  to  us  what  patience,  and  the  exercise 
of  science  and  craftsmanship,  will  accomplish  in  the  pho- 
toplay. And  in  handling  the  element  of  Suspense,  Ibsen 
stands  without  a  peer.* 

Analyzing  Ibsen. 

19.  Nora,  to  save  her  husband's  life,  has  forged  her 
father's  name  to  a  note  to  secure  funds  with  which  to  take 
Helmer  away.  Later  Helmer  returns,  with  health  re- 
gained, but  Nora  secretly  saves  to  pay  back  the  forged 
note  to  Krogstad,  from  whom  she  has  borrowed  the  money. 
Now,  Helmer  is  made  manager  of  the  new  Joint  Stock 
Bank;  he  gives  Krogstad  notice  of  dismissal  from  the 
Bank.  Krogstad  is  desperate  and  comes  to  Nora  to  ask 
her  to  plead  with  Helmer  to  allow  him  to  retain  his 
position  in  the  Bank.  Krogstad  tells  Nora  that  she  must 
do  this,  not  so  much  because  of  the  money  and  the  position, 
but  because  at  one  time  in  his  life  he  made  a  mistake;  now 
he  is  beginning  to  climb  up  the  ladder  again,  and  he  has 
growing  sons  in  whose  eyes  he  must  resurrect  his  character. 

NORA:  But  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Krogstad,  I  have  no 
power  to  help  you. 

Krogstad:  Very  well.  I  may  tell  you  once  more: 
you  are  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice;  you  have  everything  to 

•  /  have  purposely  dealt  ivit/i  examples  of  Ibsen's  plays  for  several  reasons. 
Tbsen  tvas  a  super-craftsman  and  a  master  of  suspense;  yet  in  the  instances 
that  I  have  illustrated  itnth  excerpts  from  his  plays,  dialogue  has  been  intro- 
duced, ivhich  is  largely  forbidden  in  the  photoplay.  Thus  the  student  may, 
through  careful  analysis,  determine  hoiv  much  of  Ibsen  may  be  adapted  to  the 
screen,  in  ivhat  manner  such  adaptation  may  be  accomplished  and  to  ivhat  degree 
it  may  be  effective.  In  the  photoplay  productions  of  Ibsen  that  have  been  made, 
the  tensity  of  dramatic  suspense  has  been  present  but  not  to  so  great  an  extent 
as  in  the  original  plays.  This  serves  to  emphasize  the  indisputable  fact  that  the 
most  successful  photoplays  must  be  ivritten  for  the  screen  by  ivriters  steeped  in 
the  technique  of  action  and  not  adapted  from  stage  plays,  novels  or  any  other 
forms  of  expression. 

10 


lose;  your  whole  future;  everything,  I  tell  you.  If  I  am 
flung  into  the  gutter  a  second  time,  you  shall  keep  me 
company. 

20.  Krogstad  leaves.  Nora  appeals  to  Helmer  to 
retain  Krogstad  in  the  Bank,  but  Helmer  is  astonished  at 
this,  and  declares  that  that  is  impossible,  as  Krogstad  was 
once  guilty  of  forgery.  He  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  Nora's 
pleading.  Krogstad  returns.  Nora,  caught  in  her  tragic 
dilemma,  is  told  that  unless  she  succeeds  in  saving  him, 
he  will  write  all  the  circumstances  of  Nora's  forgery 
of  her  father's  name  to  the  note,  and  drop  the  letter  in 
Helmer's  letter-box.  Nora  is  helpless.  With  tragic  gaze 
she  sees  Krogstad  leave,  and  the  letter  drop  into  the  letter- 
box in  the  front  door.  She  tries  to  open  the  box,  but  in 
vain.  She  induces  Helmer  not  to  bother  with  his  mail 
until  the  dance  is  over.  Nora  stands  a  moment  collecting 
her  thoughts ;  then  looks  at  the  clock. 

NOR.^:  Seven  hours  till  midnight.  Then  tv^'^enty- 
four  hours  till  the  next  midnight.  Then  the  tarantella 
will  be  over.  Twenty-four  and  seven?  Thirty-one  hours 
to  live  I 

Superb  Example. 

21.  Could  there  be  a  more  superb  example  of  dra- 
matic suspense?  Nora,  the  tragic  figure,  caught  between 
two  conflicting  forces,  herself  to  be  the  helpless  victim! 
Here  is  a  study  in  the  skillful  use  of  Suspense  that  every 
student  of  the  photoplay  should  understand.  The  mechani- 
cal device  of  the  menacing  letter  in  Helmer's  letter-box 
brings  the  situation  about,  but  the  events  leading  up  to 
this  dramatic  moment  all  grow  out  of  character,  well 
motivated.  Let  us  analyze  these  motives  and  discover 
with  what  deft  maneuvers  Ibsen  brings  this  about. 

A.  Nora  Helmer  has  committed  forgery,  by  signing 
her  father's  name,  in  order  to  secure  twelve  hundred  dol- 
lars with  which  to  save  her  sick  husband's  life. 

B.  Torvald  Helmer,  recovered,  is  made  manager  of 
the  Joint  Stock  Bank;  and  is  about  to  dismiss  Nils  Krog- 
stad, the  man  from  whom  Nora  borrowed  the  money,  and 
who  was  formerly  himself  guilty  of  forgery. 

11 


C.  Krogstad,  realizing  that  ruin  faces  him,  goes  to 
Nora,  informs  her  that  he  has  discovered  her  forgery,  and 
threatens  her  with  exposure  to  her  husband  unless  she 
intercedes  for  him  and  helps  him  to  retain  his  position 
in  the  Bank. 

D.  Nora,  fearful  of  exposure,  pleads  with  Helmer, 
only  to  have  Helmer  tell  her  that  what  she  asks  is  impos- 
sible, as  Krogstad  is  ruined  morally. 

E.  Krogstad  returns  for  his  answer,  and  poor  Nora 
is  forced  to  tell  him  how  helpless  she  is  to  save  him.  At 
this,  Krogstad  becomes  furious,  goes  out,  and  drops  the 
letter,  relating  the  act  of  Nora's  forgery,  into  the  letter- 
box. 

22.  Step  by  step,  with  decisive,  sure  strokes,  the 
Suspense  is  built  up.  And  once  built  up,  it  is  sustained  to 
the  very  end,  when,  the  tarantella  over,  Helmer  at  last 
opens  his  mail,  discovers  the  truth,  and  turns  in  condemna- 
tion upon  his  wife.  Mrs.  Linden,  a  mutual  friend,  acts 
upon  Krogstad,  and  through  love,  induces  him  to  with- 
draw his  threats.  But  Helmer's  attitude  of  selfishness  and 
condemnation  has  been  revealed  in  a  blinding  flash  to 
Nora,  and,  feeling  that  she  can  never  live  with  the  man 
with  whom  she  has  no  spiritual  bond,  she  goes  out  of  his 
life.* 

Craftsmanship. 

23.  Can  you,  through  your  art,  inject  anything  into 
your  work  more  powerful  or  effective  than  the  material 
itself  offers^ 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  the  answer  of  Crafts- 
manship, or  Technique.  In  Ibsen's  plays  is  to  be  found 
great  material,  with  thought,  ideas,  and  striking  subjects 
matter.  But  to  this  subject-matter  he  brought  to  bear  the 
power  of  Craftsmanship,  which  shaped  and  moulded  the 
material  into  dramatic  form,  giving  to  it  the  quality  of 
Entertainment. 

24.  There  are  two  great  elements  which  concern  the 
writer  of  photoplays.    These  are: 

A.     The  element  of  Intensifying  the  material  so  as  to 

•  Photoplay  versions  of  "A  Doll's  House"  have  been  made  by   Universal 
Films,  ivith  Dorothy  Phillips,  and  by  Artcraft,  loith  Elsie  Ferguson. 

12 


render  it  as  striking  and  vivid  as  possible  in  its  appeal  to 
the  emotions  and  the  intellect;  the  other  is 

B.  The  art  of  injecting  Suspense  into  the  play;  and 
this  is  purely  the  art  of  mechanics,  which  can  be  learned 
by  anyone  who  will  devote  time  and  study  to  the  under- 
taking. 

25.  Drama  is  made  of  two  vital  forces :  Conflict  and 
Suspense. 

Conflict  in  the  beginning  excites  your  sympathies 
and  prejudices. 

Suspense  sustains  that  emotional  excitement  until 
the  end. 

The  master  stroke  of  dramatic  craftsmanship  is  the 
remodeling  of  a  narrative  into  a  dramatic  action  by  the 
element  of  Suspense. 

This  converting  process  was  characteristic  of  all  of 
Shakespeare's  works.  He  selected  striking  narrative 
material ;  and  by  the  application  of  craftsmanship,  notably 
Dramatic  Suspense,  he  transformed  the  material  from 
narrative  to  drama. 

26.  Now,  the  question  arises,  What  is  the  secret  of 
Dramatic  Suspense,  and  how  is  it  to  be  applied  to  the 
material? 

Dramatic  Suspense  is  acquired  by  three  major 
devices : 

A.  By  Foreknowledge,  which  is  the  art  of  disclosing 
to  the  spectator  what  a  character  does  not  know. 

B.  By  arousing  at  the  outset,  a  deep  and  poignant 
sympathy  for  a  character,  and  then  developing  a  powerful 
menace  which  threatens  the  happiness,  or  life,  of  the  char- 
acter. Until  this  menace  is  removed  the  Suspense  is  main- 
tained. 

C.  By  the  general  construction  of  the  Plot,  which 
arouses  uncertainty  as  to  the  outcome. 

Let  us  take  each  of  these  elements,  and  by  practical 
examples  reveal  to  the  student  how  the  principle  is  to  be 
effectively  used. 

Foreknowledge. 

27.  Foreknowledge,  skillfully  used,  is  one  of  the 
most  powerful  elements  in  developing  dramatic  situations. 

13 


By  Foreknowledge  is  meant  that  knowledge  which  is 
given  to  the  spectator,  and  which  is  not  shared  by  other 
characters  in  a  play.  For  example:  Jones  gets  oflf  the 
street  car  on  a  dark  night  and  walks  a  block  toward  his 
home.  At  the  corner,  in  hiding,  is  Brown,  with  revolver 
in  hand,  waiting,  for  an  adequate  reason,  to  take  Jones's 
life.  Now,  if  you  know  all  the  time  during  which  Jones 
gets  off  the  car  and  walks  to  the  point  where  Brown  is 
hiding,  that  he  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  life,  your  interest 
is  quickened ;  you  are  on  the  qui  vive  to  see  what  the  out- 
come will  be;  and,  if  your  sympathies  have  been  aroused 
in  Jones,  you  are  actuated  with  a  high  degree  of  fear. 
Every  trifling  thing  that  Jones  may  do  now  is  dramatic. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  you  do  not  know  that  Brown  is  wait- 
ing to  kill  Jones,  then  everything  that  Jones  does  is  undra- 
matic,  and  not  until  the  instant  that  the  shot  is  fired,  and 
Jones  falls  dead,  are  you  aroused.  But  this  swift  and 
single  instant  of  Surprise  is  not  sufficiently  dramatic  to 
offset  the  ruinous  and  deadly  ineffective  period  of  time 
while  Jones  was  walking  from  the  car  to  the  corner. 
Therefore,  the  rule  to  remember  is  this:  That  while  Sur- 
prise is  a  powerful  element  of  drama,  unless  the  Surprise 
is  sufficiently  striking,  and  worth  keeping,  it  is  always  far 
better  to  let  the  spectator  in  on  the  secret,  so  that  every- 
thing that  transpires  may  be  fraught  with  tense  and  grip- 
ping interest. 

28.  The  most  noteworthy  example  of  Suspense 
engendered  by  Foreknowledge  is  the  famous  screen  scene 
from  "The  School  for  Scandal."  Read  this  scene  over. 
Regard  it  from  two  different  standpoints.  First,  read  the 
scene  without  the  knowledge  that  Lady  Teazle  is  hiding 
behind  the  screen.  Notice  how  comparatively  flat  and 
insipid  are  the  comments  of  the  men  before  the  screen, 
and  how  there  is  nothing  to  anticipate,  nothing  to  stir  your 
imagination  and  make  it  leap  forward  to  an  obligatory 
moment,  which  appeals  to  your  pleasurable  emotions — 
the  moment  when  the  screen  will  be  dropped  and  Lady 
Teazle  will  be  revealed  as  having  heard  all  that  was  said. 
Having  done  this,  read  the  scene  again,  as  Sheridan 
intended  it,  and  see  the  transformation  of  the  meaningless 

14 


words  into  lines  of  sparkling  flavor,  capturing  your 
interest  and  your  imagination,  and  making  you  anticipate 
with  the  keenest  pleasure  the  discomfort  of  Lady  Teazle's 
detractors  when  the  screen  shall  fall. 

29.  The  secret  of  the  entire  scene  lies  in  the  art  of 
playing  upon  the  anticipation  of  the  audience  by  means 
of  disclosing  the  secret  to  them.  Every  trifling  act  and  bit 
of  dialogue  then  becomes  fascinating  and  dramatic. 

Sympathy  and  Menace. 

30.  Belasco's  "The  Girl  of  the  Golden  West" 
affords  a  good  example  of  Suspense  engendered  by  arous- 
ing a  deep  and  poignant  sympathy  in  a  character,  and  then 
threatening  the  character  with  the  menace  of  unhappiness. 

Minnie,  the  Girl,  is  operating  the  saloon  at  Cloudy 
Mountain,  a  California  mining  camp  in  '49.  To  the  camp 
comes  Dick  Johnson,  a  stranger,  in  reality  Ramerrez,  a 
road  agent.  Ramerrez  has  come  to  rob  the  Girl,  but 
remains  to  love  her.  She  invites  him  to  her  cabin  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain.  Ramerrez  goes.  His  identity  is 
discovered,  and  Sheriff  Jack  Ranee  comes  for  him.  The 
Stranger  is  driven  out  into  the  storm,  is  shot,  and  returns 
to  the  Girl's  cabin.  Minnie  hides  him  in  the  loft.  Jack 
Ranee,  who  loves  the  Girl,  comes  back,  sure  that  the 
Stranger  has  taken  refuge  in  the  cabin.  The  Girl  suc- 
ceeds in  convincing  him  that  Ramerrez  is  not  in  the  cabin, 
and  Ranee  is  about  to  go  when  a  drop  of  blood  from  the 
wounded  man  falls  upon  his  handkerchief,  revealing  the 
fugitive's  hiding  place.  Ranee  forces  the  wounded  man 
to  come  down.  The  Girl  then  proposes  that  she  and  Ranee 
play  a  game  of  poker.  If  the  Girl  wins,  she  is  to  have 
the  stranger;  if  Ranee  wins,  he  is  to  have  her  in  marriage. 
They  play.  Ranee  wins,  but  in  a  moment  of  surprise,  the 
Girl  cheats,  deftly  lifts  a  pair  of  winning  cards  from  her 
stocking,  and  claims  the  man  she  loves. 

31.  A  bare  recital  of  the  story  cannot  give  the  melo- 
dramatic effectiveness  of  the  situation.  In  the  first  act  of 
the  play  your  sympathies  are  so  deeply  aroused  for  the 
girl,  that  when  she  is  playing  with  Ranee,  and  her  whole 
life's  happiness  is  at  stake,  you  await  breathlessly  the  out- 

15 


come,  with  fear  dominant.  When  the  girl  cheats,  the 
surprise  is  strikingly  affective.  Just  what  you  want  to 
happen,  happens;  but  the  art  of  Suspense  makes  it  impos- 
sible, until  the  very  last  moment,  to  determine  just  how 
the  Girl  will  be  saved. 

Effective  Example. 

32.  Henry  Bernstein  wrote  "The  Thief,"  which  was 
first  produced  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Renaissance,  Paris, 
December?,  1906.* 

"The  Thief"  affords  an  example  which  for  general 
effectiveness  of  structure  has  hardly  been  eclipsed  among 
modern  dramatic  productions. 

Only  six  persons  are  concerned  with  the  main  action. 
Marie-Louise  and  her  husband  Richard  are  visiting  at  the 
fine  country  house  of  Raymond  Lagardes  and  his  wife 
Isabel.  Twenty  thousand  francs  have  been  stolen.  A 
private  detective,  Monsieur  Zambault,  has  been  called  in 
by  Raymond  Lagardes  to  solve  the  mystery.  M.  Zambault 
is  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  Fernand,  Raymond's  son, 
is  the  thief.  Marie-Louise  has  been  carrying  on  a  flirta- 
tion with  Fernand,  and  now,  when  this  shocking  disclos- 
ure is  made  by  the  detective,  Marie-Louise  goes  out  into 
the  pavilion  of  the  garden  to  summon  Fernand.  Faced  by 
the  evidence,  Fernand  at  first  denies,  then  admits  his  guilt. 
Marie-Louise  and  Richard  retire  to  their  bedroom  to 
leave  the  parents  of  Fernand  alone  with  their  sorrow. 

33.  Now  follows  a  second  act,  played  in  the  bed- 
room between  only  two  persons,  Marie-Louise  and  Rich- 
ard, and  running  for  forty-five  minutes,  which  for  sheer 
dramatic  intensity,  has  no  equal  among  modern  plays. 
Marie-Louise,  and  not  Fernand,  is  the  thief.  Here  is  an 
anomaly  among  plays;  an  example  where  the  dramatist 
did  not  take  the  spectator  into  his  confidence,  but  by  virtue 
of  sheer  dramatic  power,  held  the  interest  while  the  hus- 
band mercilessly  tears  down  the  wife's  alibi,  and  reveals 
her  the  thief.  It  is  a  remarkable  example  where  the 
power  of  structure  engenders  and  sustains  Suspense. 

•  "T/ie  Thief"  is  published  by  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  New  York,  in  the 
Drama  League  Series.  Translated  by  John  Alan  Haughton.  A  photoplay  ver- 
sion iL'as  made  by  the  Fox  Film  Corporation  several  years  ago. 

16 


34.  At  the  curtain  on  Act  One  we  think  that  Fer- 
nand  is  the  thief.  Now  Marie-Louise  and  Richard  enter 
their  bedroom.  Richard  is  overcome  at  the  blow  that  has 
fallen  upon  his  friend's  shoulders.  Marie-Louise  says 
that  Raymond  will  get  over  it.  She  takes  a  card-case  from 
the  bosom  of  her  gown  and  hides  it  in  a  drawer  of  her 
dresser.  Richard  then  speculates  upon  Fernand's  confes- 
sion, saying  that  he  can  hardly  believe  it  true — that  Fer- 
nand  could  not  have  opened  the  drawer  that  contained 
the  money  with  a  penknife.  He  will  prove  it.  He  tries 
to  open  the  drawer  in  which  Marie-Louise  has  slipped 
the  card-case.  Marie-Louise  protests.  But  Richard 
overrides  her  protest;  he  comes  upon  the  card-case,  and 
finds  in  it  a  huge  roll  of  bills.  They  are  in  moderate  cir- 
cumstances, and  he  marvels  that  his  wife  has  been  able  to 
save  so  much  money.  He  comes  upon  clothes  of  Marie- 
Louise's  that  surprises  him  with  their  beauty  and  costli- 
ness. Then  the  truth  breaks  over  him.  Marie-Louise  lies, 
but  Richard  tears  down  her  fabric  of  lies  until,  breathless 
and  overcome,  she  admits  that  she  is  the  thief.  There  is 
a  pause  here — while  Richard  grasps  the  horror  of  the  situ- 
ation. Then  Richard  demands  to  know  why  Fernand 
took  his  wife's  guilt  upon  his  shoulders.  He  accuses 
Marie-Louise  of  being  Fernand's  mistress.  Marie-Louise 
rises  in  flaming  protest;  and,  face  to  face,  husband  and 
wife  await  the  coming  of  the  dawn. 

35.  In  the  morning,  Marie-Louise  confesses  to  Ray- 
mond that  she  stole  the  francs,  to  buy  beautiful  clothes  in 
order  to  appear  lovely  in  her  husband's  eyes  and  hold  his 
love.  This  confession  saves  Fernand  from  being  sent  to 
Brazil;  and  instead,  Richard  and  Marie-Louise,  forgiven, 
leave  for  Pauillac.  Again,  a  recital  of  the  story  fails  to 
convey  a  true  sense  of  its  power.  The  secret  of  its  strength 
lies  in  the  structure:  the  formation  of  a  strong  situation; 
the  suspicion  of  the  husband;  the  powerful  inquisition 
scene  in  which  the  spectator  is  in  the  position  of  the  hus- 
band tearing  down  the  wife;  the  admission,  little  by  little, 
by  the  wife  that  she  has  lied — that  she  has  not  told  all  the 
truth;  and  then  the  final  breakdown,  and  the  confession 
that  she  is  the  thief.     Suspense  is  admirably  sustained 

17 


throughout;  but  it  is  not  the  Suspense  of  Foreknowledge, 
nor  of  Sympathy  and  Menace;  but  Suspense  arising  from 
the  design,  which  is  that  of  an  inquisitor  tearing  down 
his  victim. 

Partial  Analysis. 

36.  In  the  case  of  each  of  the  plays  that  we  have 
examined,  the  life  of  the  piece  arises  from  the  element  of 
Suspense — uncertainty  as  to  the  outcome,  once  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  spectator  is  aroused.  The  same  story,  in 
each  instance,  could  be  told  in  narrative  form,  without 
the  element  oif  Suspense  so  powerfully  defined.  The  stu- 
dent will  find  it  a  valuable  study  to  read  or  witness  the 
plays,  and  then  write  out  the  plot  in  a  form  which  robs 
it  of  its  dramatic  power.  Inversely,  take  your  own  stories 
and  go  over  them  with  this  knowledge  of  how  to  create 
Suspense  in  mind,  and  see  if  you  have  handled  your 
material  in  a  way  to  excite  and  sustain  interest.  If  you 
have,  your  plays  will  contain  the  element  that  will  hold 
the  attention  of  any  reader,  and  make  the  stories  salable; 
if  not,  it  is  a  matter  of  study  and  application  to  master  the 
principle.  But  once  mastered,  you  will  be  amazed  to  dis- 
cover how  commonplace  stories  can  be  transformed  by 
craftsmanship,  and  how  ordinary  material  may  be  ren- 
dered gripping  and  fascinating.  The  ideal  method  is  to 
select  subject-matter  that  is  intrinsically  interesting,  and 
add  to  it  your  power  of  play-building,  striving  always  to 
achieve  a  perfect  result.  Knowledge  of  dramatic  prin- 
ciples and  persistent,  painstaking  work  will  accomplish 
this. 

37.  Voltaire  was  one  day  explaining  to  a  friend  a 
series  of  revisions  that  he  was  engaged  in  making  in  the 
manuscript  of  one  of  his  plays.  "But,"  argued  the  friend, 
"these  alterations  are  really  trifling."  The  great  dramatist 
smiled,  and  his  answer  was  one  that  may  be  heeded  by  us 
all.  "I'hat  may  be  so,"  he  said,  "but  remember,  it  is  these 
trifles  which  engender  perfection ;  and  perfection  itself  is 
no  trifle." 

18 


